


The Ministry of Magic's Annual Holiday Party

by sparkysparky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, New Year's Countdown, Office Dynamics, Post Deathly Hallows, Resolved Pining, holiday parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/pseuds/sparkysparky
Summary: Percy needs a date to a holiday party. Oliver volunteers.
Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 127
Collections: 2020 New Year's Countdown





	The Ministry of Magic's Annual Holiday Party

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [New Year's Countdown](https://newyearcntdown.livejournal.com/) for the prompt "Office Party". Thank you to [Titti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti) and [A Familiar Witch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFamiliarWitch/profile) for the betas! And thank you to everyone in the 30+ Fanfic Writers' Discord channel for cheering me on and reading bits of this as I went. I really am like Tinkerbell, and applause keeps me going.

"…So we'll see you there, Weasley, and bring your partner," Thaddeus Cornfoot says, giving Percy a jovial, almost paternal grin. Percy tries not to let his revulsion show. "No need to be embarrassed, after all we're a modern Ministry now," He guffaws loudly before turning from Percy's cubicle to go be jolly at someone else, leaving Percy wondering what the bloody Hell just happened.

He pushes his glasses up his nose, replaying the conversation he's just been subjected to. Annual holiday party, compulsory attendance, family welcome, blah blah blah, _and bring your partner_ and…oh. "Fuck." Percy mutters it so low there is no chance of being overheard by anyone else. His _partner_. The imaginary boyfriend he's created to stave off any match-making attempts by his co-workers.

He isn’t sure what their obsession with his dating life is. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the youngest person in the Apparition licensing department by at least ten years, or maybe his co-workers are just nosy-parkers. Ever since his transfer a year ago he’s narrowly avoided set-ups with a niece or grandson or neighbor's daughter's second cousin's friend on no less than twelve occasions. After the last attempt he blurted out that he was seeing someone. From there, he's commented now and again on what he and his 'partner' have been up to over the weekend, or on holiday. The set-ups have stopped, so it’s been an easy enough pretense to keep up. 

Until now. 

He fights the urge to bang his head against his desk; he doesn’t want to mess up his paperwork. How has he forgotten the holiday party? Hell, how is it the middle of December? He meant to stage an amicable break-up at the beginning of the month, and then a surprise reconciliation just before Valentine's Day. Long enough that he won't be subjected to unwanted set-ups, but not too long that a reconciliation would look suspect. It is--or was-- a _perfect_ plan, as he intends to be promoted to a different department by March and then won’t have to deal with well-meaning but annoying co-workers anymore. 

Maybe there can still be a break-up. He considers the idea. It's not without merit. If he stages it correctly, it might even get him out of attending the holiday party. Today is Wednesday and the party is Friday evening; a tragic heartbreak could be just the thing to earn him a quiet night at home with the new Derrick Billingsley novel. It’s supposed to be the most complicated addition to the series, and Percy is eager to dive in to see how quickly he can solve this one. Just as quickly as the idea comes, he dismisses it. The party is compulsory, and is an excellent opportunity to network with other departments. If it would only be an Apparition Office party, he might be able to persuade himself, but the Head of the Transportation Department and the Minister for Magic will be there, and if Percy wants that promotion he needs to show up and put in the work.

That leaves one other option and it makes him groan with premature humiliation. Oliver is _never_ going to let him live this down.

***

"You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?" Oliver is staring at him with incredulity, but there's a shimmer of amusement in his eyes. "At a Ministry Christmas party?"

Percy groans and hides his face in his hands. They're sitting in a corner booth at the Three Broomsticks, a glass of sparkling gillywater for Oliver and a healthy portion of firewhiskey for Percy in front of them. "Well, I can't exactly ask Marcus, can I? And I don't have any other friends." That wasn't true, there is Penny as well, but Penny is in New York and more importantly she’s female. Percy's imaginary partner is male. 

"You could ask Marcus. He and Owen split up again," Oliver says, and the shimmer of amusement has blossomed into a full-on gleam. "But then you'll have to suffer through whatever revenge Owen comes up with."

Percy shudders. The last time Owen got revenge, there was an International Incident. Ravenclaws are terrifying. Percy is rarely more grateful for having been Sorted into Gryffindor than when faced with brilliant Ravenclaws plotting creative revenge against their on-again-off-again-on-again boyfriends. Penny is a delightful exception to the rule that proves Ravenclaws are off-their-broomstick-bonkers.

"Please, Oliver. You’re my only hope."

"Don't think quoting Star Wars to me is going to make me say yes," Oliver says, but he's beaming. "Ugh, fine. But we're wearing matching Christmas jumpers and you're going to call me darling. Also, you're buying drinks for the next _month_."

Percy winces at the idea of matching Christmas jumpers; he just knows Oliver is going to be _obnoxious_ about it, but he really doesn’t have any other options. "Fine. We have a deal." He tosses back the firewhiskey. "Darling."

Oliver throws his head back and laughs, and Percy tries very hard to ignore the nervous flutters in his stomach when he does.

***

The jumpers are worse than he's expecting. They're bright, they _jingle_ , and the red and green clash horrifically with his hair and freckles. Oliver, damn the man, looks wonderful in his. The sweater clings to his flat stomach and broad shoulders and the accents bring out the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes. This, Percy is beginning to realize, has been a terrible mistake.

"We really should be wearing robes," Percy says miserably. "It's an _office_ party, emphasis on office. This is highly unprofessional."

Oliver laughs, and brushes lint off Percy's shoulder. "Nonsense. It's a _modern_ ministry now." Percy has told him about Cornfoot's obnoxious comment, much to Oliver's endless amusement.

"You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are," Percy says, but he can't help the quirk of his lips that completely sabotages his attempt at being disapproving. Oliver has always done this to him, ever since they were eleven. "All right. Let's talk strategy. I'll introduce you to Cornfoot, and a few of the others from the office. We'll make a couple rounds, stopping to talk to several key players in other departments. We'll have a drink, no more than two glasses of champagne though, and—"

"As sexy as your strategic mind is, Perce, it's just a party. Let's just have fun. You can leave your fifty-point promotion plan at home for the night."

Percy flushes. "It's not _just_ a party, Oliver. It's an opportunity to make connections, network with people who matter. It's a chance to mitigate the setbacks that…" He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. It’s an undeniable fact that Percy has made many mistakes, and they’ve cost him a lot. He’s still working to fix them.

"I know. I promise, I'm taking this seriously, but…it's a party. It'll be good for your co-workers _and_ the people that matter to see that you're not just a paper-pusher." Oliver rushes on before Percy can protest. "I know you're not, and I _know_ that you've got so many brilliant plans in that big brain of yours, but just for tonight let them see that there's more to you than perfect reports. Please."

Percy sighs and takes his glasses off to polish them. It's a nervous habit he hasn't been able to get rid of yet. "Okay. You're right. It's a party, not a battlefield,” he agrees, even though it certainly _feels_ like he’s getting ready for battle. 

"That's the spirit. Now let's go."

***

The party is in full swing by the time they get there. There's a live band playing carols, both traditional and modern, and trays of food floating around the room. The bar is open, and from what Percy can see, people are well on their way to making merry. It's also a good thing that Oliver insisted on the jumpers; robes would have been very out of place tonight. Everyone that Percy can see has eschewed professional dress in favor of wearing clothes that fall nowhere near office robes. Their sweaters aren't even the most obnoxious in sight; that privilege belongs to none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic. Percy can only imagine Rita Skeeter's headlines in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning. 

"Here. You look like you need this," Oliver says, handing Percy a flute of champagne from a passing tray. "Just breathe, Perce. It's going to be fine."

"Right. Let's get this over with," Percy says, with all the gravitas of someone marching to their doom. "Cornfoot's waving at us."

Oliver laughs, placing a hand at the small of Percy's back as they head in the man's direction. "He's hard to miss."

Percy admits this is true; Thaddeus Cornfoot is six and a half feet tall, almost as broad, and waving both arms over his head to catch Percy's attention. As if this wasn't enough, he bellows out Percy's name loudly enough that the band falters in their rendition of _I Want a Flabbergasted Leech for Christmas_ before finding the beat again.

"Mister Cornfoot, hello," Percy says when they finally reach the man. "This is my…partner, Oliver Wood."

"Of course! Who doesn't know Oliver Wood? Puddlemere United's shining star." Cornfoot looks positively delighted at this turn of events. Percy should have foreseen this; Cornfoot has season tickets to United's home games. "Weasley, you sly fox, keeping this information to yourself. Dating a Quidditch star. Well done, man, well done."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cornfoot," Oliver says, but Percy sees the tense line of his shoulder. Oliver loves Quidditch; it's a fundamental part of him. He lives and breathes the game, but he's never comfortable with the fame that comes with it. "Percy's told me a lot about you."

"Only good things, I hope. Weasley here's the glue that keeps the department together. Never seen anyone so good with reports," Cornfoot beams at him, face ruddy already from the alcohol. "Oh, I've got to go. Wife's waving me over. Oliver, we'll have to talk later. I have some ideas about the rest of the season that you'll be interested in."

When he's gone, Percy turns to look at Oliver. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize he'd be so obnoxious with you," he says, miserable for having put his friend in this position.

"Don’t apologize. People like him are part of the job. You understand that as well as I do," Oliver says, and Percy nods. The Ministry is full to brimming over with people like Cornfoot. There's only so much overhaul Shacklebolt can do; bureaucracy will always be bureaucracy. "So, let's forget him, and do our best to avoid all Cornfoots for the rest of the evening. I really don't want to know what sort of _ideas_ he has about the season."

Percy laughs, feeling some of the tension ease out of him. Oliver's good-natured approach to life has always been a balm for Percy's more anxious moments, and this is no different. In everything except Quidditch, Oliver is a port in a storm. It's been that way since they were eleven, and Oliver helped him down from an anxiety attack before their first Transfiguration exam just by sitting with him and saying nothing. And oh, he's starting to realize just how big a mistake it is to have asked Oliver to be his fake boyfriend.

They wander through the party for the next half hour, stopping to speak with Percy's co-workers. They're standing in a group watching the band, and basically pull Percy and Oliver into the center of them so there's no escape. Wanda flirts shamelessly with Oliver, but since she's nearly ninety and one of the few people in the office Percy actually _likes_ , it's more amusing than mortifying.

They ask Oliver invasive questions that Oliver answers with enough honesty to make Percy feel flushed and off kilter. ( _How did you meet?_ I tripped over him on the Hogwart's express when we were eleven. _What did you first notice about him?_ His eyes. They're very blue behind those spectacles of his. _Is Percy always so serious?_ No, he's very hilarious if you know how to listen. _Who made the first move?_ He did, because once he knows what he wants he's very goal-oriented. It's incredibly attractive. _What's your favorite memory?_ Oh, too many to count. He's been a constant in my life for over half of it, how could I choose just one favorite?)

Oliver's responses make Wanda and the other ladies from the office coo as they call them adorable. They make Percy want to cast an invisibility spell on himself so he can disappear for a while. They also make him so ridiculously happy and he's not sure what to do about that. They're able to extract themselves before another round of Uncomfortable Questions, but only because something even worse happens.

His parents arrive.

 _Of course_ they do. His parents love the annual office party, so of course they’re here.They don’t see Percy yet, which means they don’t see Oliver, and Percy is plotting out the best way to avoid them for the entire evening when he notices that Oliver is heading not in the direction of the bar but _towards_ Molly and Arthur Weasley. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses, and it’s tempting to pull away and let Oliver march forth to his doom on his own, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it. “We should avoid them.” 

“They’re your parents and anyway it’s too late. Your mother waved to me when they came in; you were distracted by Wanda asking if our bedroom is adventurous enough,” Oliver says, and he’s still amused by that clearly, even if Percy wants to cast a memory charm on himself. “It’ll be weird if we ignore them.” 

It’s not that his parents don’t know, at least in the abstract, that Percy is bisexual. He told his mother last summer and that was the end of it. Percy doesn’t bring anyone except Oliver to the Burrow these days, and even if he did, it would likely be lost in the chaos that is his siblings’ love lives. Percy has stopped trying to keep track of which extra body belongs with which sibling at this point, and Percy’s bisexuality isn't even the third most shocking scandal to hit the Weasley family this year. The first most shocking thing doesn’t even include a biological member of the Weasley family, and is instead Harry’s relationship with Draco Malfoy. He tries to convince himself that with all of that going on his apparent relationship with Oliver isn’t likely to register at all for his parents. 

“Hello Mother, Father,” Percy says as his parents approach. Oliver’s hand is at the small of his back again, a grounding force that he’s grateful for. “You remember Oliver.” 

His mother gives him a Look. “Remember Oliver? What sort of question is that? He was at Sunday lunch last week. Honestly, Percy,” she says, leaning in to give him a kiss to the cheek before doing the same to Oliver.

“You’ll have to forgive him. We’ve just escaped his coworkers so he’s still a little shaken up,” Oliver says, with an easy charm that makes Molly laugh and Arthur smile. “It’s good to see you both. Are you enjoying the party?” 

“Oh yes, these things are always a good laugh.” Arthur’s face darkens for a moment and Percy knows he’s thinking about the holiday party in ‘97. There weren't any carols that year. “With one or two exceptions.”

“The band is very good, but do you think they cover Celestina Warbeck? She has such lovely holiday songs,” Molly says, eager to push past any reminders of that year.

“It seems likely that they would,” Percy says, happy enough to indulge the change of conversation. He also doesn’t want to recall that year. “I’m sure they’ll take requests.” 

“Oh, do you think so? That would be wonderful.” She turns to Arthur. “I’ll ask if they can play _Nothing Like a Holiday Spell_. Won’t that be a lovely song to dance to?” 

“It always is, Mollywobbles,” Arthur says, and Percy might be twenty-four, but he’ll always be too young to witness his parents call each other pet names. “It’s good to see you here, Oliver. I’m glad Percy brought you. Didn’t think he had it in him.” 

It’s an offensive statement, and not even directed at him, but at Oliver. It makes him flush with anger, though he’s not sure it’s warranted. He’ll admit that communication with his father is always awkward these days, and they’re apt to have misunderstandings. He doesn’t think this will change any time soon. Reconciliation hasn’t been the smoothest of roads between the two of them, and Percy will also admit that his first instinct is always to be defensive. 

Which is why, Percy thinks, he reacts like he does. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not ashamed of Oliver, so why wouldn’t I bring him to the party?” His parents seem to have realized that Oliver is here as Percy’s _date_ and not as a friend, and even though it’s not real he’s offended by his father’s comments. 

“I just meant that you’re always so concerned with what people think of you, I’m surprised you’ve taken this step.” 

“Arthur--” 

Percy doesn’t let his mother finish. “You are correct, Father, in that I take great care in how I represent myself at work. I value my reputation, but as there’s nothing about my relationship with Oliver that will reflect poorly upon me. I resent the implication that I would try to hide him. Come on, darling, we should speak with Ms. Lufkin.” He takes Oliver’s hand and leads him towards the Head of Magical Transportation. 

“Let’s get a drink first, Perce,” Oliver says, smoothly changing their direction to the bar. “Take a breather before we talk to your boss’ boss.” 

Percy wants to protest, but he knows it’s a good idea. He’s upset and angry, and in no mood to make a good impression on a woman who holds his future in her hands. Also, he’s embarrassed at having reacted this way in front of Oliver, despite Oliver knowing more than anyone exactly how rocky Percy’s relationship with his father is. 

“He’s not even wrong.” He stares miserably into the glass of champagne Oliver hands him. “A year ago I would _never_ have brought a male partner to this party, even someone I was actually dating. I would have deemed it too risky to my future goals.” 

“It is a risk to your goals. Despite the insistence that this is a _modern ministry now_ , we both know that old prejudices don’t just disappear. There’s a lot of people here who will pretend to be okay with us, because it’s the politically popular stance now, but who won’t actually approve of us.” 

“Well, maybe it’s a good thing that this isn’t real, then.” He almost immediately regrets it at the look on Oliver’s face, and ducks his head to avoid meeting the other man’s eyes. 

“Percy…” Oliver trails off and Percy hears him sigh. “Right, let’s go talk to this Ms. Lufkin.” 

***

Conversation with Abigail Lufkin goes smoothly. She is genuinely pleased to see Percy, and doesn’t ask any intrusive or uncomfortable questions about his relationship with Oliver. Oliver, for his part, is charming and guides the conversation with a light hand. Percy knows he’s off-kilter, but he finds himself relaxing into the conversation by focusing on the feel of Oliver’s hand at his back. He even gets a laugh out of Ms. Lufkin with a joke about broomsticks, and feels proud of himself. People so rarely get Percy’s jokes. 

“You two must come for dinner after the holidays,” she says as they’re easing themselves out of the conversation to continue mingling. “Oliver, I think you know my partner professionally. Gwenog couldn’t be here tonight, but I know she’d love to have you join our next dinner party.” 

Percy goggles at her, the invitation taking him by surprise. He’s less surprised by the fact that her partner is a woman; he’s heard the rumors ever since he’d joined the Ministry but nothing had been confirmed for him until now. He doesn’t know how he feels about it; is she extending the invitation because she thinks they’re part of the same community? Is this really how Percy wants to move up in the Ministry?

Some of what he’s thinking must show on his face, because she gives him a very stern look. “Don’t overthink this, Mister Weasley. Gwenog and I enjoy entertaining, and we often invite people--couples or otherwise--that we find make interesting conversation. It’s no more complicated than that.” She smiles at them both. “Now, I’ve kept you long enough. You should dance with your very charming partner. Shoo.” She waves them off, and there’s nothing to do but go. 

“I’ll figure a way out of this,” Percy offers as soon as they’re out of earshot. “Or, if you want to go, I’ll find a way out.” Gwenog Jones is one of Oliver’s heroes in the Quidditch world; Percy wouldn’t want to deprive him of the opportunity to get to know her better. “This just keeps getting more and more complicated, doesn’t it?” 

“Percy. It’s only complicated if you make it complicated,” Oliver says, eyes not leaving Percy’s face. “So don’t make it complicated.” Percy wonders what he means by that, but before he can press for more information Oliver takes his hand. “Let’s dance. Your mother is right, _Nothing Like a Holiday Spell_ is a very lovely song to dance to.” 

Oliver leads him onto the dance floor, and he’s a surprisingly good dancer. Or maybe it’s not so surprising given how graceful Oliver is on a broom, but that doesn’t always translate to grace in other areas. Percy feels like someone has cast a static spell on him; his body is tingly wherever it presses against Oliver. The flutters in his stomach are back, and from this close he can really make out the gold flecks in Oliver’s eyes. They’re fascinating. 

“Thank you. For being here. I keep asking myself what we’re doing.” 

“Right now? We’re dancing.” 

“Yes, obviously we’re dancing,” Percy laughs, but that wasn’t what he’d meant. “I know it’s been...weird, but I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“It hasn’t been weird,” Oliver protests, and Percy gives him a Look. “All right, it’s been a little weird, but I’m enjoying being here with you.” 

“I’m sorry about my father, and that we put you in the middle of our...whatever it is. And I’m sorry about what I said. About this not being real.” 

“Apology accepted.” 

The song ends, and the band picks up the beat with the next one. Percy’s not much of a dancer outside songs where he can do traditional dances like the waltz, but Oliver grins at him and starts to move to the beat and Percy can’t help but follow him. He knows he looks like an awkward giraffe, but for once he doesn’t mind if people are watching him. He can’t notice anything but the way the faster movements make it impossible to keep their bodies from meeting in interesting places. Percy’s face feels flushed, and he doesn’t think it’s just from the dancing. 

“I need something to drink,” he says when the song ends. “And maybe some air. It’s hot in here.” 

Oliver looks at him for a long moment, then grins his agreement. “Let’s get a drink and take a stroll around the gardens. I heard someone say they’ve got fairy lights all strung up. Very festive.” 

***

“It is very festive,” Percy agrees, after drinks and cloaks are obtained. The gardens are a winter wonderland, all twinkling lights and invitingly romantic paths through them. Percy’s face doesn't feel any less flushed in the cooler air. “Have I said thank you yet?” 

Oliver laughs, his hand coming to rest at the small of Percy’s back the way it has all night. “Yes, you have, and again, you’re welcome.” He pauses for a moment, then continues. “You know it’s not a hardship to be your date, right? I teased you when you asked me, but only because that’s what we do. I was always going to say yes.” 

“I know. But it’s a lot to ask of a..a friend.” He keeps his gaze straight ahead on the path, not wanting to risk looking at Oliver’s face. “Especially since I saw Rita Skeeter here tonight, so this might end up in the Prophet tomorrow.” Percy doesn’t think there is any _might_ about it; Oliver is famous and Percy is a Weasley. Skeeters’ favorite subject might still be Harry Potter, but she always jumps at the chance to write about anyone even tangentially connected to him. “I...didn’t think that through when I asked you.” 

“I really could not care less about Rita Skeeter and whatever she prints in the Prophet,” Oliver says, with a vehemenance that’s hard to ignore. “Besides, whatever she writes will be a footnote to what she prints about Harry and Draco. They arrived right as we were heading out here, so I think we’re safe from any huge scandal.” 

Percy laughs. “That’s true,” he says, because wherever Harry Potter goes, drama follows. “Still, it’s not going to mean any trouble for your career, is it? The Quidditch world isn’t known for being the most tolerant.” 

“No, it’s not, but I’m not worried. I was already out, it’s not like that will be a surprise to anyone.” He pauses again. “Percy, you have to stop worrying about me. I’m an adult who can make his own decisions. Give me the respect of trusting that I know what I’m doing, okay?” 

“Right. You’re right. Of course you are.” Percy fights the urge to apologize again, but can’t quite keep himself from blurting out his next thought. “You’ve never had a public boyfriend, though. I’m sorry your first one is…” Me. “Fake.” Oliver comes to a stop, and Percy turns to him in confusion. They’re the only ones on this path at the moment, and the lights cast a soft, warm glow over them. “What is it?” 

“What if I don’t want it to be fake? What if I want this, us, to be real?” 

Oliver’s face is heartbreakingly open and honest when Percy looks at him. Apprehension and fear are written in the way he holds his shoulders and won’t _quite_ meet Percy’s eyes. Percy’s heart is racing and a thousand million thoughts are all trying to come out at once. It’s confusing and terrifying and if Percy lets himself think too long, he knows he’s going to mess everything up. He’s already been silent too long, he thinks, and it’s enough to make him act on instinct. 

He moves forward before he can talk himself out of it, and kisses Oliver. He has to tilt his head down to adjust for the difference in their heights, and their noses bump together painfully. Oliver gasps in surprise and bites down on Percy’s lips. It’s a painfully bad kiss, but perfect for it. Percy adjusts again, without putting much space between them, and the second kiss goes a lot better than the first. So does the third. 

“I guess this means you want it to be real, too?” Oliver asks once they’ve broken apart. They’re both flushed now, and struggling to catch their breath. 

Percy laughs. “Yes. I want it to be real,” he says, face burning with a blush he can’t control. “When I was making up stories to tell my coworkers about my fake partner, I used our story. I told myself that it was logical; that I’d be less likely to make a mistake if I used real events and just...modified them a little. I didn’t let myself think about how much I wanted the modifications to be real.” 

“We’re idiots,” Oliver says, leaning up for another kiss that Percy gladly returns. “Marcus is going to gloat for a year. Maybe we can just...not tell him for a while.” 

“We can wait until he and Owen have made up and broken up a few more times before we let him in on our relationship,” Percy says, and he can’t help the grin that breaks over his face on the word _relationship_. “And we can remind him that he’s hardly one to have any opinions on anyone else’s love lives when his is so chaotic.” 

“Brilliant.” Oliver kisses him again, and Percy thinks he could become addicted to the way Oliver tastes. “Okay. Let’s go inside. I want to dance with you again, and also I’m curious what sort of drama Harry and Draco have caused. Shall we?” 

Percy knows they haven’t figured everything out yet. There’s still a lot to discuss, and despite the easy way they’ve fallen into kissing, he knows it won’t be easy to go from friends to lovers. Just the thought of Oliver naked in a sexual way is both thrilling and strange. He’s looking forward to the changes though, and figuring it out together. 

“Promise me, whatever happens, we’ll stay friends,” Percy says before they reach the doors leading back into the ballroom. He needs this reassurance; everything is happening so fast and the thought of losing Oliver in his life, if this implodes on them, is more than he can handle. “Please.” 

“I promise,” Oliver says, stopping again. This time, instead of a kiss, Oliver draws him into a warm embrace. Oliver’s hugs have always been one of Percy’s favorite things, and this one is no different. “But you have to promise me that you’re not going to overthink this, and that you’ll _tell_ me what’s going on in that brain of yours. I’m not a Legilimens, so that’s going to be important.” 

“I promise.” He whispers the words into Oliver’s shoulder, then pulls back and says them again. “I promise.” 

Oliver kisses him again, almost chastely, then links their fingers together. “All right. Once more into the breach,” he says, with a wink. 

The Annual Ministry Holiday Party of 2000 turns out to be the best one that Percy has ever attended.


End file.
